


The one where Stiles is absolutely fine

by Nival_Vixen



Series: Word of the day [33]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banshee Lydia Martin, Common Cold, Complete, Cute, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Multi, Polyamory, Protective Derek, Sassy Lydia, Sick Character, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Werewolf Derek Hale, Witch Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:25:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8007901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is 110% <i>not</i> sick.</p><p>(Just ignore the floating objects, okay?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one where Stiles is absolutely fine

**Author's Note:**

> Word of the day: mollify

For most people being sick means taking a few days of rest, drinking a couple of litres of OJ, and being doted on by their partner as they look after them in this awful time. (Or in Stiles' case, partners. Derek and Lydia, in fact. _Yee-haw, partners! Geddit? Heh_. _He's_ _hilarious_.) In Stiles' case, however, it means less rest, probably the same amount of juice, and badgering from his partners. He's not even sick! Werewolves should be re-named to were-badgers because seriously, Derek can badger like nobody’s business.

Stiles tries to wrestle out of the tight sheet wrapped around him, but Derek's managed to tuck the sheet on both sides, and the end so Stiles is less of a burrito and more of ... _something packed in tightly?_ Oh, sardine. Yeah, that works.

He's a sardine and can't even wriggle out of the bed. Hell, he can't even get his foot out of the sheet which means he's not going to be able to sleep anyway, so there. Stiles feels a cough starting to build up in his chest and holds his breath, hoping he won't explode in any way that's too disgusting. Lydia'd be upset if he ruined their brand new carpet. Besides, he's not sick. See, he hasn't coughed in like, ten whole minutes. He's totally better, fine, and needs to be _out_ of this bed.

"Stiles, if you don't cough, the bacteria's going to stay in your chest and make it worse," Lydia calls from wherever she is.

He doesn't believe the thing about bacteria, but then Stiles wonders how she knows he's holding in a cough.

Lydia arrives in the doorway a moment later, a vase floating in front of her. _Oh, right_. Rampant magic is apparently a side-effect when witches get sick. But Stiles is so _not_ sick. He's totally making that vase float on purpose.

His chest hurts, his lungs burn, and he finally coughs. The vase drops and Lydia catches it, setting it on the bedside table which is weirdly magic-free.

"I'm fine," Stiles protests, though with his stuffy nose, it sounds more like 'm phym' which doesn't help his case at all.

"I can see that," Lydia says, eyebrows raised and tone disbelieving.

Stiles can't even gather enough energy to glare. He lets his head fall back on the pillow from the mere centimetre he’s able to raise it. "Where's Derek?" which doesn't sound like that at all, and he coughs again.

Okay, fine, he might be a _little_ sick.

"Derek's gone to get ice cream because he still has no idea how to make you better, but remembers something about ice cream from a book. And chicken soup. We have three months' worth of soup cooling on the kitchen counter."

Stiles grins at that; Derek hates it when he or Lydia gets sick and totally goes overboard until they're better again. (Even when they are better, he might still go a little overboard in everything else, like he's trying to make up for a hundred shitty relationships before them. Lydia and Stiles have actually sat on Derek to make him _stop_ and calm down once.)

"Spinks?" he asks between wheezing breaths.

"No sprinkles; you'll probably choke to death on one of them. But I imagine he's getting chocolate sauce," Lydia adds to mollify him. "Now, if you finish your soup before he gets back, you can have three scoops of ice cream."

 _Holy crap; **three** scoops?! Everyone knows two scoops is the adult-size limit_. Stiles struggles to sit up, but is still stuck in the sardine sheet. Lydia tugs one side free for him and helps Stiles sit up, adding her and Derek's pillows behind him so he's comfortable. Stiles has another coughing fit and half the books on the bookcase fall off their shelves. He winces at the sight.

"Don't worry; Derek's been saying he wants to re-organise them for a while anyway," Lydia says and Stiles feels a little of the guilt unwind from his chest.

Lydia offers him a bowl and spoon, and if Stiles had a sense of smell right now, he's pretty sure the soup would smell amazing. Derek goes to the farmer's market every weekend and makes sure to buy really fresh ingredients; Stiles would be lying if he said he couldn't taste a difference. Lydia sets the tissue box next to Stiles and leaves to let him eat in peace. He has to stop every few spoonfuls to blow his nose, and after one particularly bad nose-blowing session, Stiles realises that the wallpaper's changed colour. He keeps his head down as far as possible without choking and finishes his soup.

Derek's back from shopping by the time Stiles is done, and Stiles waves at Derek weakly when he looks in the doorway to check up on him. Derek looks kind of haggard, and if Stiles didn't know werewolves' immunity to the common cold, he'd think that Derek was getting sick too.

"You neeb sleeb," Stiles says, turning to blow his nose again.

"I'll sleep when you're better," Derek replies, coming in with a bowl of ice cream. He checks that Stiles has finished his soup before he offers the bowl to him.

Three scoops and chocolate sauce, as promised. Stiles grins and promptly has a coughing fit, Derek holding the bowl up and away until he stops. Stiles makes grabby hands for the bowl, but barely finishes one scoop, too exhausted and full of soup to continue eating. He starts to fall asleep, eyes heavy and body like lead. Derek takes his bowl as Stiles starts to drop off, and finishes the ice cream himself. Derek spends a few minutes rearranging Stiles until he's lying on the bed again, one foot poking out of the sheet.

Lydia looks in the room and sees Derek drawing lines of pain from Stiles gently. She walks over and puts a hand on Derek's shoulder. "Don't take too much; he'll feel it in the morning."

Derek agrees with a noncommittal noise and brief nod. He turns his head slightly to press a kiss to her fingers, his lips sticky and cool from the ice cream. Lydia rests her chin on the top of Derek's head, and they both watch Stiles as he dozes off with laboured breathing.

"He'll be fine, Derek. As soon as he actually lets his body rest and recover," Lydia adds. "I'll get the humidifier so he can breathe properly."

Derek stops taking Stiles' pain a moment later, but doesn't let go of his hand. He realises that Lydia hasn't left for the humidifier, and looks over at her to see her pained expression.

"What's wrong?" he asks, immediately listening for a threat or the tingly feeling that accompanies Lydia’s banshee screams.

"What happened to the wallpaper?!"

Derek looks at the wall to see it covered in bright green paper with neon pink love hearts. "It'll have to wait until Stiles is better, Lydia. He might not even know he's done it."

Lydia mutters under her breath about loving an _evil_ witch with terrible taste in colours and decor, and reluctantly leaves for the humidifier. Stiles coughs in his sleep and the bed sheets turns a garish shade of orange. Derek winces and goes after Lydia to set up the humidifier himself.

(Three days later, Stiles is finally well enough to use his magic on purpose. The first thing he does is fix the wallpaper.)

...

The end!

**Author's Note:**

> Also available on [Tumblr](http://nivalvixen.tumblr.com/post/150245470532/the-one-where-stiles-is-absolutely-fine)


End file.
